


And The Little Bird Sang

by freephoebe



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ambition, F/F, Friendship, Magic, Multi, Origin Story, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freephoebe/pseuds/freephoebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Lorelei has always lived in awe of Loki's clever tricks, and her sister Amora's effortless brilliance. But she has grown increasingly troubled by Loki's secrets and deceptions as his true ambitions become apparent. She also fears that her sister, always volatile and passionate, may now have become as mad as she is powerful. Against her parents' wishes, Lady Sif has been training herself to be a warrior, and she and Lorelei form an alliance as they both struggle to unlock the power that will make their names. But as they grow closer, Lorelei begins to realize that her power may be able to get her anything in the world except the thing she wants most. When she finally finds her voice, her song threatens to bring the nine realms to their knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memoro

Prologue: Have You Forgotten?

~

“I understand you’re looking for someone,” Coulson said, grateful to return to the matter at hand, and leave the subject of his rise from the dead for another day.

“I am hunting her,” said Lady Sif. “Lorelei.”

 _Lorelei_. The name still had the power to make her heart sink into her stomach, and she clenched her fist so that her sword hand would not tremble. It was 600 years since the events that had bred a generation of mourners throughout the nine realms, herself included, but anger lives long among those whose lives seem an eternity to the adolescent peoples of the worlds. On her tongue the name would always taste of bitterness and betrayal.

“What kind of powers are we talking about?” asked one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, a man whose form spoke of skill in combat and whose face spoke of nothing. “Strength? Speed?”

Sif shook her head. “Sorcery. She bends and shapes the will of men to her own purpose.”

“Only men? Her powers don’t work on women?” A female agent, in whom Sif recognized her own fierce determination. And perhaps some of her own pain.

“No. Men have an inherent weakness we do not share.” The female agent nodded; to her this was plainly self-evident. But doubt flickered in the face of the male agent. Even as she explained that the strongest of men could resist Lorelei’s voice but never her touch, Sif could sense this man’s complacent certainty that he would never surrender control of his own mind. He was trained, no doubt, to withstand great pain, physical and psychological torture, and all the ingenious tools that Midgardians had developed to make others speak and perform their bidding. His every bone might break, but he was certain his mind would not.

 _Haldor thought the same._ Another name that still conjured the pain of half a millennia ago. Haldor had been too proud to be cautious, too dutiful to fear for himself, and, yes, too stubborn to admit the full extent of the danger that faced them all. Perhaps he had even imagined that love might protect him, that Lorelei’s arrows of enchantment would bounce harmlessly off a heart shielded by the love that he and Sif shared.

The last time she had seen him he had looked at her with sorrow in his eyes and, worse, with a profound pity. That was the true cruelty of Lorelei’s sorcery—that it left men so unchanged despite their newfound loyalty and devotion to her. Haldor had remained as brave and as generous and as thoughtful as he had ever been, and his guilt over the pain he caused Sif was real, though no amount of it could persuade him to leave Lorelei’s side. In almost every way he had still been Haldor, the man who had sworn his love to her with all the quiet passion of a man whose emotions run slow but deep. And with sorrow in his eyes he had drawn his sword against her and promised to cut her down if she threatened harm to Lorelei.

No, she couldn’t do this. Not now. Resolutely, Sif pushed these memories aside, and focused on explaining to Phil Coulson and his team how her enemy might be silenced once again.

~

On the whole, her prison cell had been far more comfortable. In the spare elegance of the room to which she had been confined for 600 years, it had almost been possible to imagine that she was living a life of voluntary asceticism and contemplation.

Now, in the first days of her long-awaited freedom, her situation had barely improved, and some might say it had worsened. The dark musty hole that Rooster called a bar was only another kind of prison, a miserable island amidst a vast ocean of dead, brown hills. Was she to be ruler of this wasteland, an insignificant queen ant of a fragile sand hill, populated by a few scruffy men in leather?

This Nevada, as Rooster called it, seemed already to have been washed clean by plagues. What was there to destroy in this land of nothingness?

A sound like many small explosions suddenly broke through the stale air.

“What is that?” Lorelei demanded impatiently.

“Well, it seems we’ve caught the attention of the law,” Rooster said with a note of concern in his voice.

She turned swiftly and met his eye. “You promised to fight for me,” she reminded him in a soft voice, and she felt the strength of her power over him tighten.

“Yeah, and I will,” he said edgily. “But they got a lot of firepower out there. I mean, hell, they even got some Medieval Times chick. She’s got, like, a sword and everything.”

More than one of Rooster’s words were meaningless to her, but Lorelei understood enough to know immediately who it was dogging her footsteps once again after all these years.

“Sif,” she said with an angry grimace, but inside she was less certain of her emotions. On the one hand, it was more than possible that Sif had come this time with every intention of finishing her off completely. She did not expect mercy should things turn sour this time, least of all from Sif.

On the other hand, what good were victories, plunder, destruction and power, if they did not come at Sif’s expense? It was right that the loyal Asgardian shieldmaiden should be there to bear witness and to suffer over what she had wrought, since, were it not for her, none of this would have happened.

The door exploded inwards, the cheap plastic blinds rattling wildly against the glass, and Sif marched inside the dusty bar. She wore armor Lorelei had never seen but otherwise she was unchanged, from the length of her dark brown hair to her long and confident strides. Lorelei tasted blood in her mouth, and realized that she was biting down fiercely on the inside of her cheek.

“Lorelei,” said Sif coldly. “Still manipulating men to do your dirty work, I see.”

“And I see you’re still a step or two behind,” Lorelei responded with a condescending smile.

“You know how this ends, Lorelei. So come willingly.”

 _Come willingly?_ She would have come willingly enough, once. She had been Sif’s to command, once. How dare she speak those words to her now? How dare she order her in that cool way, like one orders a recalcitrant child? How dare Sif be so business-like, as though this were just another job and not the first time in 600 years she had been face to face with the woman whose story had briefly been her story, before the tale had splintered into jagged pieces that tore at them both?

“You mistake me for someone who fears you,” Lorelei snarled. “I’ve bested you before. Or have you forgotten?”

 _Have you forgotten, Sif?_ Have you forgotten any of it? Have you forgotten what we once shared? Her words were both a taunt and a plea, and from the look in Sif’s eyes Lorelei knew that the question was not lost on her.


	2. Visus

 She had always been here, she was certain of that. She was a root, just one of the many dark and curving roots that leapt from the soft ground and reached high into the air, twisting together into a gnarled mass. There was no time, not here, just roots and mist. Here it was peaceful, so peaceful…

 Suddenly, there were voices. How could there be voices? Roots did not speak, and there was nothing here but roots, roots and mist. The voices grew louder. Lorelei frowned. The voices were wrong. For that matter, the frown was wrong. Roots did not frown.

 One of the voices became clearer, loud and deep. Thor, her mind suggested. What was a Thor? There were two voices, and the second became clearer also. It was quieter and sweeter, a hum and a heartbeat. Loki. No. Yes, Loki. She knew Loki. Loki was small and dark with a secret smile. Loki had given her a globe with stars in it. Lorelei opened her eyes.

She looked at her hands, and then down the rest of her body to her feet as if she still half believed that she was nothing more than vegetable matter. How long had she been walking? Surely it could be only minutes, but it was hard to shake the feeling that it had been much, much longer.

The voices were coming toward her, and the girl waited quietly in the mist, waiting for them to pass. She was Lorelei of Asgard. She had followed Thor and Loki from the city on the back of a wolf, followed them all the way to the rugged center of the world. They had vanished through an invisible barrier and she had hurried after them, blundering into a world of roots and mist that had very nearly taken her mind and dissolved it into mist itself.

Lorelei felt a belated swell of horror. The mist and the roots and even the ground filled her with dread, and she longed to hurry back to the barrier and slide back into the world. But she realized at once that without the presence of Loki and Thor, and the sound of their voices to break the horrible stillness, she would quickly begin to lose her mind once again. So she let the brothers lead her on, further into she knew not where nor what.

“This is a doomed errand, brother,” came Loki’s voice.

“Fear does not become a son of Odin,” was Thor’s reply.

“Nor does foolhardiness.”

“Silence your tongue.”

“I have told you, we must converse or this place will set our minds adrift.”

“Speak on some other subject, then. I am weary of your trepidation.”

“You will not be deterred?”

“Why should I be? Does this not excite you? Do you not value adventure?”

“I value it above some things, and below others,” was Loki’s measured reply.

“How boring your cautiousness is.”

“Father must have his reasons for leaving Karnilla unmolested.”

For Lorelei, following soft in their footsteps, the name did nothing to ease her dread. Karnilla was one of the Æsir, but she had long ago left the company of Odin and made her home in Nornheim, where the Nornir dwelt and wove the destinies of every creature in the Nine Realms. There, she had declared herself the Queen of the Norns. Karnilla was a powerful sorceress, and was said to know secrets of magic that were hidden even to the Allfather.

“Father is too idle,” Thor barked. “He would let the seeds of chaos grow around him while he feeds table scraps to his pet canines.”

“His idleness is not indolence but discretion born of experience.”

“Perhaps it is fear born of experience. I am here to learn for myself what force this renegade possesses, that I may know how to bring her to heel.”

So this strange and fearful place was Nornheim itself. Was the swirling haze around them natural, or a creation of the enchantress queen to confound any who might find their way here? If the latter, it was fearsome magic indeed.

Suddenly Thor gave a shout of frustration. “Where in Hel’s name are we?”

“Nowhere in particular it seems,” said Loki mildly. “Which is not the worst place we could be. If you would only reconsider–”

“There! What’s that? Lorelei heard Thor’s footsteps hurrying forward.

“Have care, brother,” Loki cautioned.

Lorelei hurried to follow their voices as Thor’s heavy tread came come to a halt. There was a moment of silence, and she felt a stab of fear for their safety. Then the elder prince spoke in a tone that was almost reverential. “It’s beautiful.”

The girl crept forward, and quite suddenly there came a parting in the mist. She peeked out from the forest of roots and saw the two boys, brawny and fair, dark and slender, standing tensely side by side. In front of them shone the glassy water of a circular pond. The water was white and glowed like the brightest of the heavenly bodies.

“It is the Well of Wyrd,” said Loki softly.

“What lies beneath the surface?” Thor wondered, and stepped forward.

“Careful, brother!”

The older boy’s boots splashed at the edge of the Well. Abruptly the air filled with silent sound, sound that echoed in Lorelei’s brain without ever making an audible noise. It was otherworldly and frightening, like the sound of the mind’s electricity at work. Then a voice spoke, and it bore so deep that it brought the girl to her knees. “Ooooohhhhhhhh!” it cried. “I am awake! I am awake!”

Then another voiceless voice wailed. “Sister! What has awoken you? It is not your time to be awake!”

“Visitors! Visitors!” murmured a third presence. “We have visitors, sisters.”

“Who would come here?” asked the second voice. “This place is not for outsiders.”

Thor, never one to stand in silence for long, cleared his throat. “I am Thor Odinson!” he proclaimed. “Will you show yourselves to me?”

There was a flicker in the fabric of the air, and then a woman stood beside them. She was ageless, colorless, and her hands flew through the air in constant motion as she stood gazing vacantly out over the well. “I am Ver∂ani, and I am the becoming. You have awoken Urth the Past, and trespass upon the holy heart of the nine realms.”

“I am an heir to the throne of Asgard, and of the Æsir who have dominion over this realm,” said Thor imposingly. “How can I trespass on lands that are beneath the shadow of the Allfather?”

“The Nornir do not bow to Odin. The Allfather has no dominion here.”

“If you imply that the false queen Karnilla is sovereign over these parts then you do declare yourself my enemy,” Thor warned sharply.

“Even the Æsir depend upon the health of Yggdrasil, and cannot subvert the power of the Wyrd. The petty struggles of kings and queens are no concern of ours.” The colorless Norn never paused in her work, weaving feverishly at an invisible loom.

Thor swelled with irritation. Loki remained silent and nearly still, only turning his head as his eyes took in everything around them. His brother spoke again in impatient tones.

“We have no wish to interfere with the great tree or the work of the Nornir.”

“Good. Then take yourself away and disrupt our sacred work no further.”

“I will take myself away when it pleases me to do so. I will not be treated as an interloper.”

There was a hiss in the air, and Lorelei felt the inhospitable presence of invisible beings close by. Could Thor not feel the danger?

“Be gone, Odinson. Your presence is not wanted.” Ver∂ani kept at her weaving, but there was tension in her voice.

“Do not anger me, Norn,” the boy growled.

“You are blunt and blind, and you have done enough damage here.”

Thor’s fist clenched and unclenched. Verbal warfare was not his bent, and Lorelei could tell he was itching to hit something. “I warn you not to make an enemy of me. I will not forget, and you will make any enemy of the entire court of Asgard.”

Still, Ver∂ani wove her invisible threads. Then, she gave a laugh that was hardly a laugh, for there was no mirth in it. “What a petulant prince. It is you who must beware, for there are forces here far beyond your limited comprehension. I wonder at Odin producing such a dim offspring. You would best be silent, like your…brother.” She cast her vacant eyes over Loki, who was frowning at Thor’s side.

Lorelei wondered if he, too, was puzzling over why the old Norn was troubling to provoke the volatile young prince. Were they truly so troubled by visitors to this sacred place? Had Thor truly wrought some havoc by sending ripples across the surface of the Well? Lorelei had no idea what Thor might do if he were goaded for long enough. Get him away from there, Loki, she thought, and for a moment she fancied she saw the younger boy’s head flick slightly in her direction.

The girl turned her glance back to Ver∂ani, whose busy hands were almost hypnotic. Lorelei stared at the Norn until her eyes began to ache, keeping her gaze locked and never blinking. Suddenly the old woman faded away as though she herself were nothing but mist. In her place was a much younger women robed in burgundy, with dark hair crowned by a fantastic headdress carved from bone. Though she had never seen her, Lorelei knew at once that this must be Karnilla. The Norn Queen’s face was painted with gleeful concentration as her hands sped feverishly.

The loom at which she wove was no longer invisible, and Lorelei could see that the sorceress’s work was almost complete. The tapestry was of a bright green adder, and as Lorelei gazed the snake began to writhe and struggle to free itself from the threads. It wanted only a head, and it would be complete.

Entranced by the strength of her vision, Lorelei reached out toward Thor and Loki and gave them her sight. The world went black, and the veil that shielded Karnilla from their eyes lifted.

The boys drew back in surprise, and it was Loki who reacted first. He pulled Thor backwards as the adder coiled to strike, all but its fangs now woven into the tapestry. Then the dark boy drew his hands together and a great cloud of dust rose from the ground to shield them from the Queen’s sight. Thor recovered from his surprise and reached for his weapon, but Loki hauled him away from the Well, imploring him not to be a fool. Thor turned angrily away and ran.

Lorelei’s sight returned to her with a dizzying recoil, and she found that she no longer had any strength to remain standing. She dropped to the ground and blinked desperately, trying to make the world stop spinning. She felt the strange suffocating calm of Ur∂arbrunnr settling over her, and her mind grew blank.

Suddenly she felt arms around her, and heard Loki’s voice murmuring in her ear. He lifted her up and hurried through the jungle of roots after Thor, talking to her in a low voice all the while. She couldn’t seem to understand his words, and she couldn’t remember how to form words of her own. But his voice kept her conscious, and after several minutes her sight gained focused and her mind began to clear.

The mist and roots around them gave the mysterious impression that they were not really moving. “The barrier,” Loki said to her urgently. “Can you see it?”

Lorelei gazed around them with as much focus as she could command. Her eyes were dry and weary, and there seemed to be nothing but mist left in the world. Then, for a fleeting second, she caught a flash of stamping hooves.

“There,” she said, pointing, and the boys rushed on, eager to leave this eerie place behind.

The world flickered, they were sliding and dropping, and suddenly they were back in the world. The wild landscape of the far reaches of Asgard once more surrounded them, and Adfall and Dynur were pawing and prancing beside them. Loki knelt and set Lorelei gently on the ground.

Thor swung at the air, letting out some of his pent up disgust. “Mark me, she shall pay for her treachery one day,” he growled. He turned to the other two and looked at Lorelei in confusion, as though he was noticing her presence for the first time. Then he snorted in frustration and stormed aboard Adfall, riding away thunderously.

Loki and Lorelei watched as Thor vanished into the wild scenery. Then Lorelei looked over at her friend with gratitude and weariness. “Thank you, Loki.”

“I think I should be thanking you.”

Lorelei looked down in embarrassment. “How did you know I was there?”

“You need a bit more practice at being stealthy,” he teased.

“Did you know I was following you the whole time?”

“I thought someone might be. And then I knew it must have been you who showed us Karnilla.”

“Do you mind that I followed you?”

“I shall mind if anything ever happens to you,” he replied, which was not really an answer.

“I’m sorry, Keir,” she said. His face softened, and he smiled at the familiar nickname, which meant “little dark one.” Thor was golden-skinned and fair, a mature adolescent already grown tall and broad. In contrast, Loki was dark-haired and bright-eyed, slender, still more a boy than a man. From anyone else he would have resented the name, but he knew that from her it was a term of affection.

“Your magic is growing,” she said after a time. _  
_

He raised his eyebrows. “So is yours.”

“It seems to have a mind of its own,” she confessed. “It…it reached out to you by itself. I wouldn’t have known how to do it on my own.” _  
_

“You have power, Lorelei,” the dark boy said. “It can be frightening to glimpse your own potential.”

“I didn’t feel powerful when it happened,” she said. “I felt helpless, like I was being used by a force that it much stronger than I am. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Sometimes,” Loki admitted. Then he gave a half smile. “But I rather like it. It feels as though I’ve been chosen—as though I am connected to some great purpose.”

Purpose. Yes, she could understand that. Purpose had always been important to Loki. He was always looking outward, shaping his place in the world.

“Loki,” she said after a time.

“Hmm?”

“Will you tell me what were you really doing here?” Lorelei knew Loki well enough to know that he would not have simply followed his brother on a fool’s errand to Nornheim with no mission of his own. Once he might have, for the shear adventure. But lately there always seemed to be a double purpose about Loki, even in his lightest and most mischievous moods.

Perhaps it had even been he himself who planted the germ of the idea. Loki was becoming a master of reverse suggestion, and the impetuous Thor was an easy mark. The more the younger boy protested that something was a bad idea, the more likely the elder was to do it anyway, to prove that he was bold and unafraid.

Loki gave her one of his searching looks. He rarely kept things from her, but this time she felt that he was calculating how much he could say. There was a wariness in his eyes; she had seen it often around other people but never before when they were alone. “Not now, my heart,” he said finally.

The endearment smarted. In one breath he seemed to say that he loved her but he did not trust her. At least he had not pretended that he didn’t know what she meant. That was something. Then again, perhaps it was not a sign of respect, but simply of acceptance that she had seen through him. “You know that I would never betray you,” she said softly.

To her surprise, Loki scowled. “Do not make such a claim, or such a promise.”

“It’s true!” she flared, stung by his angry dismissal.

“They are just words,” he snapped back.

“Words are not meaningless! You of all people –”

“I know,” he said quickly, his face still dark.

“If there was some other way I could prove it to you…”

His scowl dropped away and he took her hand. “Truly, Lorelei, it isn’t you but rather the vow itself. I would rather have your friendship than your loyalty.”

“How can there be one without the other?”

“Betrayal can be an act of love. Friendship and loyalty are not the same thing.”

Lorelei was confused and troubled. Without quite knowing why, she threw her arms around Loki’s shoulders and hugged him close. He hugged her back, pressing his lips against the top of her head.

Lorelei asked him no more questions. She held on to his hand, feeling somehow closer to him than she ever had before. But she felt, too, that there was a constraint between them, and she did not know how to overcome it.

Nor was it entirely Loki’s doing. How could she press him when she also had a secret? The more she probed him the more he would see into her thoughts. It was always that way with Loki. And there was something she had seen in Ur∂arbrunnr that she was not ready to share even with him.

 


	3. Soror

Lorelei crept up the stairs to her room, nervous that someone might notice and question the state of her dress, mud-streaked as it was. But she saw no one until she burst through the door of her chamber to see lounging on her bed the person she had most feared to speak with.

“You’ve been naughty,” Amora said with a smirk. “How refreshing.”

Lorelei looked at her sister warily. Amora’s languid posture and laughing expression so often camouflaged a nasty humor.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Not a thing, my sweet sister,” the older girl said carelessly. The sisters stared at each other for a moment, and then Lorelei turned to her mirror and began to undo the buttons and laces of her wrinkled and muddy dress.

Amora watched Lorelei’s reflection closely, until impatience began to creep into her languorous posture. She rose sinuously to a sitting position and swung her legs to the floor. “Come, angel,” she murmured. “Aren’t we going to talk?”

“If you like.” Lorelei was cautious. She knew there was no escaping Amora when she was in a mood like this, cat-like, and it was important to tread carefully.

“I think we must. Before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what.”

“Too late for you,” Amora replied, and giggled horribly. She came up behind Lorelei and wound her arms around her younger sister’s neck, a little too tightly.

Lorelei coughed as Amora’s forearm pressed gently against her throat.“I won’t tell anyone.”

“If you do,” Amora said, laughing into her ear, “I’ll carve out your liver with a spoon.” She pulled the soiled dress away from her sister’s shoulders and clasped them sharply.

“Have I ever betrayed your secrets?” Lorelei asked as calmly as she could.

“Of course not. You would never dare.” She dug her nails lightly into her sister’s skin. “Sweet, silent, obedient Lorelei.”

Lorelei was cold in her shift, and Amora’s hands were icy. The older girl whispered again. “But how difficult it must be. To tell no one that you saw your own sister at the Well of Wyrd, standing side by side with the witch queen of the Norns.”

Amora ran her fingers through her sister’s windblown auburn hair, ripping tangles apart with painful jerks. “How interested Thor the Thick-Headed would be to know that I have welcome passage where he is denied.”

Lorelei did not reply.

“And how interested your beloved Loki with his precious little tricks would be to know all the deep secrets of magic that Karnilla has chosen to share with me,” Amora continued, probing for a reponse.

Lorelei looked at her sister’s face in the wardrobe mirror. She was beautiful and frozen, with a face that laughed while her eyes remained pale and fierce. “Karnilla is teaching you?”

“She has taken me as her apprentice.”

“Why?” Lorelei let slip, betraying her interest.

“Because I’m brilliant, my love. And, I suspect, she enjoys having someone to show off to,” she added indifferently, with more insight than Lorelei would have given her credit for. But after all, you cannot manipulate people, as Amora loved to do, without understanding what motivated them.

“Karnilla is the greatest sorceress the world has ever known. For now,” Amora finished. And she laughed again with a brittle hilarity that threatened to shatter.

“You were there, standing by as Karnilla wove,” Lorelei said softly.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I shall laugh for days to think of Thor’s blustering idiocy.”

“Would you have let the adder strike him?” she asked.

“Oh my precious darling,” Amora said pityingly. “Do you truly believe it was your magic that saved him at the Well?”

“It was,” said Lorelei in confusion.

“Your beautiful eyes, perhaps,” the older girl said, caressing her sister’s cheekbone with a long fingernail. “But I was the one who captured your sight and shared it with that great blond oaf, to keep him from posturing absurdly before his own doom.”

Lorelei felt hot with embarrassment. So she had been right after all, had she known it, when she confessed her experience to Loki. She had been used by a power stronger than she was, she had been nothing more than a tool… “Why did you bother, when you despise Thor so?” she wondered bitterly.

“Lei,” Amora pouted, “Do you believe me capable of standing by while my childhood friend is murdered?”

What did she believe Amora incapable of? “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Besides,” Amora shrugged. “A fool in a position of power can be useful to those who are not fools. Thor can be plucked like a lute. I shall look forward to playing him.”

Lorelei thought of Loki’s easy manipulation of his impetuous brother, and knew that Amora was more right than she knew. Suddenly, she was desperate to get away, before her sister could dig her nails into any more vulnerable places. She pulled a clean frock over her shift and laced it hastily.

But Amora was not finished. “Lei,” she said, drawing her arms around Lorelei’s waist and resting her chin on her sister’s collarbone. “Do you love me?”

“Of course,” Lorelei whispered.

“Not as much as you love Odin’s changeling.”

“Don’t call him that!” she blurted.

Amora laughed. “Loki is so thin and dark and hungry. The Allfather must be thrilled to have such a son.”

Lorelei flushed angrily.

“And yet you adore him. It’s to him you run with your secrets, your fears, your sadness. Never to me.”

“He is my best friend.”

“I’m your sister.” Amora squeezed her tightly, pressing her cheek against Lorelei’s. “I could teach you, you know. All the dark and beautiful secrets that the Norn Queen shares with me. Power that Loki can only dream of.”

“I don’t want her secrets.”

“Of course you do,” Amora hissed. “You dream of magic. Of great power. I can see it in you. I can see your envy.”

Lorelei shuddered and tried to pull away, but Amora held her tightly and whispered, her voice soft again. “Think how powerful we could be. There is such strength to be had, such forces in the realms. I can feel them. I can be potent on my own, but you and I could be unstoppable.”

“No one is unstoppable.”

“Not yet. But you and I, Lei…we could be everything.”

“What would you do if you were unstoppable?”

“Drink the oceans. Hold worlds in my hand and spin them apart. Ride the back of the great serpent and see everything that has ever been or will be.” For a moment Amora’s eyes were dreamy and she looked almost gentle. Lorelei remembered chilly nights as a tiny girl, crawling into her sister’s bed and listening to stories of dragons and giants and sorcery. Amora used to have the same look during those stories, her voice filled with wonder and her eyes alight with passion and excitement. Lorelei would have done anything for Amora then.

“You’re remembering, my pet,” Amora murmured. “How we loved each other once. We were all we had.” She petted her sister’s hair with what almost seemed to Lorelei like genuine tenderness. “You’re still all I have. _Let me teach you._ ”

“Let me be, Amora. I don’t want to be you,” she said quietly.

Amora recoiled as though from a blow, and stood pale and angry. “If you turn from me I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Lorelei demanded shakily.

“You are my flesh and blood.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

“You’re all I have!” she repeated.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Where would I go?” Lorelei said helplessly.

“I don’t mean this room. This palace. Asgard. I mean _here_.” Amora clutched violently at her heart. “I am by your side, but you shut me out. I feel myself slipping away. From everything. Sometimes I think I’m…I’m out of my mind. Can you believe that?” She laughed shrilly. “With you I know who I am. Where I belong. You are the only one who can hold on to me. My flesh and blood. My sister.” Her voice had risen almost to a panic, desperation shining through cracks in her icy demeanor.

Lorelei looked dumbly at her unhinged, impulsive, cruel, vain, and brilliant sister. Not knowing what else to do, she hugged Amora, half in fear and half with some echo of the adoration she used to feel for her only family.

 


	4. Viris

“What would you do if you were all-powerful?”

Lorelei lay on her back hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes trained upwards through the great domed roof of the observatory. The stars were so thick in the heavens that the sky glowed blue, like a bioluminescent wave frozen on a beach. She had been counting planets, picking out their paler, steadier light from amidst the trillions of distant suns, when she made up her mind to ask the question that had truly been occupying her mind.

Loki was standing some feet away, his brow furrowed with effort. For half an hour he had been standing with his palm upturned toward the vivid sky. Slowly, faintly, his hand had begun to glow and then, so gradually that it seemed at first like a trick of the eyes, constellations of stars began to appear on his palm. Finally, his hand seemed to vanish entirely and to leave in its place a fragment of the night sky itself.

At the sound of her question he glanced down at her, and then abruptly dusted off his hands. The constellations he had gathered flew into the air, a cloud of fluorescent flour shaken from a cook’s apron. He sat cross-legged on the floor next to Lorelei and cupped his chin in his hands.

“If I were all-powerful?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t really know,” he said thoughtfully.

“You must have some idea. I mean, you could do anything you want. Have anything you want. What do you want?”

“Many, many things. But that doesn’t seem good enough.”

Lorelei wrinkled her forehead at Loki. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think, if you had all the power in the world—you could do anything—you would feel an obligation to not just do…anything?”

“I suppose.”

“The more power I had the more I would feel as though I had to do something truly tremendous. Anyone with all that power really would be a god, and gods don’t just make toys.”

 “Do we know that for certain?” she wondered, stretching out her legs. “We could all be some god’s playthings. All of our struggles just a game.”

“No,” he returned, a bit shortly. “If something made us then it made something that matters, if only to us.”

“So you wouldn’t play games,” said Lorelei with a smile.

“Well…” Loki grinned, “Not just games. It would feel wrong to waste all the power in the world on my own petty wants.”

“Selfish?”

“Not exactly…just—not enough.”

“Perhaps being selfish would be the only way to use such power selflessly,” she mused. “If you don’t restrict yourself to your own desires then you begin to interfere in the lives of other people.”

“Ah, but satisfying all of your own desires would inevitably do that as well," Loki disagreed. "For example, I couldn’t satisfy my own desire that Thor be inflicted with permanently bad breath without interfering with his quality of life.”

She giggled. “Bad breath? That’s the worst you can come up with?”

“I have no wish to come up with anything worse,” Loki demurred. “I love my brother. But,” he added, “I wouldn’t mind if he had a little extra incentive to keep his mouth shut once in a while.”

Lorelei made a peculiar face and went silent for a time. “You don’t sound as though you’d want it,” she continued at last.

“Want what?”

“All that power. To be all-powerful. To have the responsibility of deciding what you would do with it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Loki replied quickly. “Who doesn’t think they could run the world better than anyone else if they were given the chance?”

“I suppose,” she said doubtfully.” But who would want to?”

“Not you?”

“Gods no.”

“Oh dear, maybe just me then." He widened his eyes innocently. "I shall have to watch myself.” 

Lorelei feigned horror. “If you ever try to rule the world I shall be forced to destroy your credibility by revealing the embarrassing details of the infamous cockatoo incident.”

“Not that!”

“And…I’ll tell your mother on you.”

“Alright, then. Your turn. What would you do if you were all-powerful?”

“Oh, I don’t really know either,” she said carelessly.

He frowned at her slightly, then shrugged. He always knew when she lied. “Fair enough.”

“Really, I don’t. I have some ideas, but…I guess you’re right. They all sound sort of feeble,” she said half-truthfully.

“Okay.”

“It was Amora made me wonder about it.” She fell silent, and pretended to resume her study of the planets.

“Loki, do you like Amora?”

If Loki was surprised by the question he didn’t show it. “I have some fondness for her, I suppose. I’ve known her all my life. But no, I don’t really like her.”

“What do you think of her?”

“I think she is brilliant and beautiful.”

“She is. Is that all?”

“I think she’s passionate. Impulsive. Unpredictable. I think she can be ill-tempered, sometimes cruel.”

“She has a great talent for magic. Perhaps more than you. Certainly more than I have.”

“You are younger than she. You hardly know your own power yet.”

“I know enough to know that it’s nothing like hers.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Lorelei rose impatiently to a sitting position. “Please, don’t try to make me feel better. It’s not about my pride. Well, not entirely. It’s just…aren’t you ever afraid?”

“Of Amora? Or something else?”

“Not just Amora…of power, and power in the wrong hands. Amora with all her witchcraft in one of her cruel humors. Heimdall with his eyes prying everywhere. Mjolnir and the throne of Asgard in the possession of an egotistical dimwit. Doesn’t it ever worry you?”

Loki gave a half smile. “Leave Thor to me.”

Lorelei looked at him curiously. “You really do love him, don’t you? In spite of everything?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

Loki shrugged. “He’s my brother.”

“Ah.”

“I’m well-placed to see the worst in him, but I see the good, too. And I understand that he may need a certain, ah…supervision, from time to time.”

“And you would love him no matter what?”

“Well, I think so. He’s my blood. Is that strange?”

“Strange…no, of course not. That’s the way it should be. Blood is forever. Who can we turn to if not family?”

“Something like that.”

“So I’m to leave Thor to you, which leaves Amora in all her moods to me.”

“Careful, Lorelei, I can handle Thor, but—”

“Ah!” Lorelei said with a slightly sour smile. “And there we have the truth.”

“Don’t—”

“You can handle Thor, but I can’t handle Amora.”

“Perhaps not, but that has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Amora.”

Lorelei rolled her eyes. “It has a little to do with me though, doesn’t it? I’ve always fed off the crumbs of her magic and your magic, and you pat me on the head and tell me how special I am, but the truth is I can barely cast a simple spell!”

“Your magic saved my life. I am hardly likely to disparage it.”

Lorelei flushed uncomfortably. She felt mortified at the memory of the Well of Wyrd, of how proud she had felt to come to her friends’ aid, and of the cruel way in which Amora had told her the truth. She hated the idea that Loki admired her for a lie and longed to tell him what had really happened, but she was afraid for his sake and her own of what might follow if he knew everything that had passed in Nornheim.

“That was an accident,” she said stiffly. “And it almost killed me. I don’t want to think about it.”

Loki looked puzzled but didn’t press her. “As you like, darling, but listen—my worries are nothing to do with magic. I don’t want you to feel that you have to be responsible for the way Amora may behave when she’s in a nasty mood. You know better than I how unpleasant she can be, but she’s too clever to be led from behind.”

“Or I’m not clever enough.”

“That’s not true.”

“I just wish I stood some chance of being her equal.” 

“If you insist on measuring only by the things at which she excels, then you don’t give yourself a very good chance.”

“I have to measure by what matters.”

“Magic is not the only thing that matters.”

"Of course it's not the _only_ thing," Lorelei said impatiently. “But it looms rather large, don't you think? She could be more powerful than all of us, you know.”

“Lorelei, you do not need her power. You are better than she.”

“How?” she asked scornfully.

“You are sweet, and kind, and honest.”

Lorelei scowled. “I didn’t know those were qualities you admired.”

“I can admire in others what I don’t possess myself,” Loki answered dryly.

“Wonderful. Amora will command the oceans one day, and I’m _nice_.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“When did being nice ever outdo magic? It’s not _enough_.”

“When it comes to magic, none of us may ever be able to match her.”

“Exactly!" Lorelei cried, clutching his arm. "And what then, Loki?”

“I don’t know, exactly. But I know it will not be your burden to face alone.” He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. After a moment, Lorelei sighed, met his eyes and smiled.

Later, after Loki had departed for his room and his bed, Lorelei stood in the observatory, looking down over the great city through a filigreed window. She had always turned to Loki for advice, and depended on his shrewdness, but this time he didn’t understand. He thought Amora could be unpleasant and cruel, yes, but that was all. Is that what other people believed also? That her sister was some sort of overgrown child who liked to throw temper tantrums?

Amora was cunning, of course. She kept most of her claws retracted in front of everyone except the little sister who was too cowed to speak out or to fight back. As a result, no one else understood the truth, no one else seemed to see what she saw in her sister. No one seemed to realize the scope of her ambition, or of her potential, or of her malice. No one seemed to realize that Amora was mad.

Lorelei knew for a certainty what others around her might only half-jokingly imagine—that her sister would one day need to be stopped. And if they weren’t prepared, how could they ever hope to succeed? No, none of them understood. That was why she had told Loki that she didn’t know what she would do if she were suddenly all-powerful, when in reality she knew that the first thing she would do if she had all the power in the world would be to remove Amora from it forever.

He might even despise her for it, and she couldn't bear that. After all, despite Thor’s dullness, his egotism, his temper and his aggressiveness, Loki still loved him because he was his brother, his blood. That was how things should be. How could he guess that she had one advantage over her sister that might render all Amora’s power useless, if she used it right? Because despite all of her cruelty and threats, Lorelei knew that her sister still loved her. But she hated Amora.


	5. Exerceo

The great city was luminous even at nighttime, but there were shadowy places where you could creep unseen, if you knew where to find them. After years of following Loki on errands of mischief in the small hours, Lorelei knew them all.

It was a new moon night, and she made her way as swiftly as possible past the outskirts of the city and onto the fields of the tumuli—the burial grounds where the Vanir laid their dead to rest. While the Æsir laid out their dead in splendor upon a boat before setting it alight, the Vanir chose to lie entombed in the earth, in keeping with their deeper connection with the land and its cultivation.

Both clans avoided the tumuli except on certain occasions, the Vanir out of respect and the Æsir out of a certain distate that might almost have been called superstition, if Asgardians admitted the possibility of superstition. But Lorelei was too concerned with real and present dangers to even half-care for such things, and she knew that the tumuli would give her the solitude she needed.

The rolling mounds covered acres, but looked even larger by the light of the stars as Lorelei approached. Some of the tumuli were simply mounds of earth carpeted with grass, while others were really elaborate tombs masquerading as humble hillocks. The oldest mounds had become forested with young trees and scrub, while the newest of all were the telltale heaps of brown loam from which nothing had yet begun to grow.

Lorelei made for the oldest area of the tumuli, where the flora would hide her even more completely from any curious eyes or ears, even those of Odin’s raven spies. As she was approaching the first line of trees, her ears suddenly caught the muffled sound of shuffling footsteps, and her heart jumped into her mouth.

She had the sudden, terrified thought that it could be Amora, Amora having somehow read her mind and come to laugh, or worse. But no, if it were Amora, she would never have guessed at her sister’s presence until she made herself unequivocally known. _You’re being paranoid_ , she scolded herself. Taking a deep, calming breath, Lorelei picked her way uneasily through the trees to see if she could discover the identity of her unexpected company.

Reaching the rounded summit of a tumulus, her eyes finally picked the unknown figure out of the darkness. Then she was more surprised than ever, for the person appeared to be dancing. Weaving about on feet that alternately shuffled, leapt and spun, the stranger chasséd in and out of the shafts of starlight that mottled a small clearing below the tumulus on which Lorelei stood, peering downward. But she was not confused for long, because the starlight suddenly caught the flat of the sword that was gripped in the stranger’s hand, which danced even more furiously than its bearer.

The stranger was dressed in black, and even Lorelei’s keen eyes had to strain to see who it was. Though shrouded in a loose tunic and hood that camouflaged shape and hair, it eventually became clear that the figure was both young and female. Lorelei knew at once that it could be no one but Sif.

She watched the other girl’s movements from the secrecy of her dark hilltop with eager interest. Sif was clever and graceful, with wide, unwavering hazel eyes and a finely-carved face. Her parents had practically worshipped her from a child, and in almost every way she had grown into the elegant and accomplished young lady they had envisioned. In every way except for her fascination with combat and weaponry.

To be a shieldmaiden of Asgard was still unusual, but Brunhilde and her Valkyrior had begun to make it fashionable by virtue of their comeliness, glamour and strength. Nevertheless, it was not the position that Sif’s parents wanted for their beautiful daughter, and their frown lines grew deeper the more she dreamed of a warrior’s life. She did not defy them outright, but when her art and music lessons were over she would curl up with epic tales of valor in battle; when she had danced with all the grace and poise that they could wish, she would engage in friendly scraps with anyone who was willing to challenge her.

The blade flashed as Sif flicked her wrist back and forth, up and down, twisting to the outside, twisting to the inside, over and over as Lorelei watched, mesmerized by her speed and the repetitive sweeps of her sword. She had always felt tongue-tied and intimidated around Sif, admiring her essential confidence and how little she seemed to care about anyone else’s approval. And yet here she was amid the (almost) perfect seclusion of the tumuli, practicing her bladecraft alone and in secret.

Lorelei watched in fascination for many minutes as Sif tirelessly repeated her drills. She was careful not to make any movement, she was almost certain that she hadn’t moved a single muscle, but suddenly Sif froze and looked fiercely in her direction. Had her breath betrayed her? Sif stood stationary, focusing her eyes and listening, and in her black, hooded garb with sword held menacingly at the ready she looked formidable indeed. Lorelei also froze for a moment, rooted to the ground like a rabbit, before her nervousness got the better of her. Scrambling clumsily to her feet, she gathered her skirt and ran back down the hillock on which she had been hiding, and Sif came charging furiously after her.

The chase was over almost as soon as it began; nearly blind in the dark, Lorelei tripped first on a root and then on her skirt. She tumbled down the remainder of the hill and sat up quickly, only to find herself looking up at Sif, who was brandishing her sword a little shakily and staring at her with wild, startled eyes.

“Lorelei! What are you doing here?” Sif demanded furiously.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Lorelei said stupidly, scrambling to her feet.

“I would have though that was self-evident,” Sif replied coolly, lowering her sword.

“Yes, I know, I mean, it is,” Lorelei muttered, blushing. “I just mean, your parents forbade it, didn’t they?”

Sif raised her sword again and glared. “That’s why I’m practicing _here._ And if you tell anyone I’ll give you two black eyes and feed your hair to the goats.”

“I won’t,” Lorelei promised quickly.

Sif looked at her suspiciously.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Lorelei said simply. _It seems to be the only thing I’m good at._

“Did you follow me?”

“No! I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t think anyone would be here. That’s why I came.”

“To do what?”

“To practice,” said Lorelei shortly.

“Practice what?” Sif demanded.

“Nothing. I’ll go. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Really I won’t.”

“I’ll believe you won’t if you tell me what you’re hiding,” she said stubbornly. “It’s only fair that way.”

It was Lorelei’s turn to scowl suspiciously. “How do I know I can trust _you?_ ”

“Because I give you my word,” Sif replied formally.

Lorelei was almost tempted to laugh. The concept of a code of honor that gave simple words such power, and scorned the possibility of any doubt being cast upon these words, had always seemed to her a silly way of establishing trust. But there was something so transparently earnest in Sif’s declaration that she couldn’t bring herself to doubt it.

Concentrating with everything she had, Lorelei raised her hand, stretched and spread her fingers as wide as possible, and swept her arm deliberately across her body. For a brief second, the air through which her hand had passed came to life with heat and motion, and the loose strands of hair that had fallen across Sif’s face were blown back. Then the moment passed, and the air was still and cool once more.

“That’s all?” Sif questioned, a note of disappointment in her voice.

Lorelei stiffened. “That’s why I need to practice,” she said frigidly.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. That it’s not impressive.”

“Well, it isn’t, so I guess you’re right after all.”

“Listen, all I meant was that everyone knows you’re learning magic. It’s not actually much of a secret.”

“Well maybe I don’t want everybody to know exactly what I do and don’t know.”

Sif looked doubtful. “But if everyone knows you’re learning, why not learn properly? You have Loki, or Amora…you’d learn so much more quickly with someone teaching you. I still don’t see why you’re trying to hide.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Then I don’t believe you.”

“What about you?” Lorelei replied angrily. “You have people who could help you. Thor, or Fandral, or Hogun, or anyone! Some of them may be a bit half-witted but you know they’d help you if you asked. They’d probably think it was gloriously subversive and bold to help train a girl to become a warrior. Don’t pretend that you’re all alone in the world, forced to spar with shadows because no one will cross swords with you. I’m sure you have your reasons, and I have mine. I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but telling you every detail of my life was hardly part of the bargain. Unless you’re going to threaten me again.”

They glared at each other, and Sif jabbed the point of her sword into the ground in frustration.

“I’ll just go,” Lorelei said stiffly. “If I’m permitted to.” She turned to make her way slowly though the grass, feeling a bit bruised by her tumble. She had only gone a few feet when Sif abruptly spoke again.           

“I have to know that I’m good enough.”

Lorelei paused and looked over her shoulder.

“The boys have all been carrying swords around since they could walk,” Sif continued gruffly. “They’ve had every advantage…instruction, training, everything. I could have had that if my parents had wanted it for me, but they didn’t, and now…I only know what I want to do, not what I can do.”

Lorelei waited patiently.

“I know that Thor and the rest would humor me,” Sif continued. “You’re right. They would if I asked. But I don’t want them to see me trying to learn to walk when they already know how to run. I might never be good enough, and I’d rather know that before they do. I need to be good enough that they, and my parents and even Odin himself can no longer doubt my strength. Then I’ll show them what I’ve done and who I am.”           

“I understand,” Lorelei said simply.

Sif looked self-conscious, but grateful. “Is it…the same for you?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Lorelei lied. _That, and I have to kill my sister._ “I’m tired of always stumbling along in other people’s wake, falling further behind even when I make progress. I just want to find my power, if I have any, without people alternately thinking I’m destined for greatness or destined to be nobody.” _  
_

The two girls stared awkwardly but sympathetically at each other for a moment; surprised and a little embarrassed, but also relieved by the confessions they had shared. Or withheld. “You can stay. Here. If you want,” Sif said at last. “I won’t mind. It’s a good place to practice.”

“Thank you.”

Sif turned back up the hill, and Lorelei followed a step behind. The other girl's long strides were difficult to keep pace with, and Lorelei half walked, half skipped until she reached Sif's side. “You know, I was watching for a little while," she said shyly. "I think you’re really good.”

"I'm not."

"Well, I'm sure you will be."

“You don’t know anything about combat,” said Sif matter-of-factly.

“No, not really.”

"Then you have no idea how good I am, or will be."

“I know you’re better than I could ever be.”

Sif turned to her with a frown. “Not to give offense, but that’s hardly much of a measure. And it’s not you I need to impress.”

“I know, I’m only trying—”

“It doesn’t help,” Sif snapped.

“Fine,” said Lorelei, stung.

They glared at each other once again. Finally, Sif sighed, looking apologetic but resolute. “Look, I don't mind if you practice here. There's plenty of space. But don’t get in my way. I don't want your encouragement, or your advice, or your help. I just want to train alone, without an audience.”

“I have no intention of getting in your way," Lorelei replied coolly. "I’ll leave you alone as long as you leave me alone.” She held out her hand. Sif grasped it firmly and they walked together over the crest of the hill before parting ways in the darkness.


	6. Auxilium

Despite the distance and the hills that lay between them, Lorelei could hear the sounds of Sif's vigorous training as she herself sat cross-legged in a small, grassy dale. Gradually emboldened by the darkness and the seclusion of the tumuli, Sif now regularly punctuated her movements with full-throated shouts that carried over the knolls accompanied by a faint echo. The sounds no longer disturbed Lorelei—indeed, she found herself more distracted when the familiar noise occasionally stopped and she was left wondering if Sif had gone.

A smooth, round stone lay at Lorelei's feet, and she willed it to disappear. There was nothing whatsoever remarkable about the stone, but she had conceived an unreasonable hatred for it. Through no fault of its own (she was forced to admit) their collaboration was proving highly unsatisfactory. She had stumbled upon said stone many nights previously and decided it would be a useful object on which to practice casting illusions. But it had proved distressingly solid, resisting her best attempts to render it invisible; only, occasionally, giving off a slight flicker as if to say "there is nothing inherently un-vanish-able about me, the problem clearly lies with you." She cursed the stone for its insolence, and then cursed herself for wasting her anger on a rock. A rock!

Not that the past weeks had been entirely fruitless. She could now send stronger pulses through the air (of the kind that had so failed to impress Sif), causing trees to shudder, their branches to wave, and their leaves to rustle as if in a strong breeze. But it was still a blunt force rather than a fine instrument—when she tried to concentrate on smaller objects and move them to her will, her magic was too diffuse and weak, as a river is calm and slow when flowing through wide, flat embankments. That same river becomes swift and lethal when concentrated and compressed, but so far she could find no inner canyon to force her energy through and transform her power into a torrent.

She had also managed to conjure a flame in the palm of her hand, but instead of burning neat and controlled in the cage of her fingers, it had leapt in all directions, catching her skirt and a small patch of grass on fire. Quickly stomping the flames into oblivion, she had decided to abandon fire-making in these comparatively flammable surrounds, guessing that setting the tumuli ablaze would probably constitute getting in Sif's way. 

So she had moved on to illusions and now here she was, just she and the detested rock, hour after hour.

From the would-be shieldmaiden's private battleground all had gone silent. Lorelei stared at her stone, but her mind was over the hillocks, wondering if her invisible companion was still present. She had not so much as laid eyes on Sif since their first meeting; at least, not on the tumuli, for they had passed once in the great halls of the palace and she had done her best to meet Sif's level, impassive gaze for as long as possible. She was grateful for other's girl's distant presence during the long, lonely hours among the great burial mounds. She wondered if Sif ever wondered about her as she did about Sif, wondered whether Sif experienced the same moments of frustration, of doubt, whether she ever stumbled, slipped or had to drop her sword because she was too weary to wield it any longer. She wondered if Sif, too, was grateful for their disconnected fellowship.  

"Are you busy?" came a sudden hoarse voice.

Lorelei practically jumped out of her skin. She threw a hand up to her her face as if to shield herself from the unexpected intruder, and the air sprung forward in a wave, arching the trees and flinging Sif onto her backside. The young warrior was more than a little taken aback by this unforeseen attack, but she was hardly more surprised than Lorelei, who clasped the guilty hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at Sif as though she half-feared some form of retaliation.

"You terrified me! Why did you approach so silently?"

"I did not intend to," Sif replied in the same hoarse voice that Lorelei had not recognized. She realized that Sif must have worn her vocal chords ragged with her repeated battle cries. "You seemed to be very absorbed in your own thoughts."

 _Thoughts about you_ , Lorelei recalled sheepishly. "I suppose I was. I apologize for knocking you over. I've never managed anything so strong before."

"Adrenaline," said Sif matter-of-factly. 

 "Yes, of course. If I were constantly in fear of my life, I suppose everything would be going much more smoothly."

"You're having difficulties?"

"Only if my goal was to become a powerful sorceress. If my goal was to pass the night meditating upon an insensible stone then I am nearing fulfillment." Lorelei gave the stone in question an exasperated kick.   

"I have encountered frustrations as well," Sif admitted stiffly, then fell silent. Lorelei waited, recognizing that it did not come easily to Sif to confess her struggles. "I've performed my drills a thousand times over!" Sif exclaimed at last, the stiffness falling away. "It is all very well to learn the motions, and I know that I have built up my strength, but I shall get no further if I don't have someone to train against."

"Are you going to ask Thor and the others for help?" Lorelei asked, surprised by the wave of disappointment that passed over her torso and settled in her stomach. The thought that Sif might abandon the tumuli and leave her alone with her struggles in this land of the dead seemed insupportable, although solitude was what she had initially come here to find.

"No," said Sif quickly. "I don't want to tell anyone yet. Anyone else."

"But...oh!" It dawned on Lorelei what Sif was about to ask, and her first reaction was that she had never heard anything so ludicrous. "No, I couldn't!"

"Of course you needn't, if you don't want to. But I have no one else to ask." All of the stiffness had returned, and Lorelei sensed how much Sif hated asking for help.

"I've never lifted a sword in my life! I don't see how I could possibly be of use to you," Lorelei protested. 

"Even if you just held a shield and let me rain blows on it, it would be more useful to me than continuing to spar with the air, which offers no resistance."

The idea of standing passively (shield or no shield) as the taller and much stronger Sif pelted her with blows was not exactly Lorelei's idea of fun, and she went a little pale. "Wont that...hurt?"

"No. That's what shield's are for. Not getting hurt." The corner of Sif's mouth twitched, and Lorelei realized that she was trying to bite back a smile. It was the first time that Sif had smiled during any of their interactions. The sight made her suddenly light-hearted, although it did not entirely remove her trepidation. 

"What if you make a mistake?"

"I won't. Besides, it's a large shield. There is room for error."

"Wait, you won't make a mistake, or there's room for error? Those are not quite the same thing!"

"True," Sif admitted, with another flicker of a smile.

"Which is it?"

"Both."

"Promise?"

"I give you my word," said Sif formally. "Of course," she added, "If you are busy with your own endeavors, I quite understand."

Lorelei looked down at her accursed stone, bane of her recent existence, and decided that possible severe bruising or loss of limb was preferable to spending another minute attempting to turn a recalcitrant rock invisible. And hadn't she just decided that a good dose of fear and adrenaline was just the thing to make her small powers more potent? 

"Very well. I'll help you," she said. She gave Sif a broad smile, and received a shy but genuine smile in return.

*   *   *

"Well, if you hold the shield like that then I really WILL hurt you," Sif admonished, sounding mildly exasperated.

"Like what?" Lorelei demanded, lowering the shield that she had been holding at arm's length as though it smelled foul.

"Like it's going to bite you. As though it's the shield itself and not my sword that is going to injure you."

"You gave me your word," Lorelei said accusingly.

"I know. So help me keep it by listening to my instructions. First of all, you have to hold it closer to your body if you want it to protect you."

"But if I hold it closer to my body that means your sword also gets closer to my body," Lorelei grumbled.  

"Yes, but you will have the strength and balance to parry the blows. If you hold it out like that I can easily knock the shield away from your body. Also, your arm will tire quickly and begin to drop and leave your head and upper body exposed."

"Just how hard are you planning to hit me?"

"Eventually, as hard and as fast as I can." Seeing that Lorelei did not look very reassured by this admission, she hastened to add, "But not until you are ready."

"That will be a fun day," Lorelei deadpanned.  

"That looks much better," Sif said encouragingly, as her make-shift training partner once again raised her shield, this time holding it firmly across her body. Sif grasped the shield and pushed against it, and Lorelei took a step back but held her elbow firm. Sif smiled approvingly. "Good. Use your feet to absorb the blows, and always keep your elbow strong." She picked up her sword and raised it to the ready. "Shall we?"

Lorelei nodded.

Sif swung her sword, and the shield rang like a gong.

*   *   *

With the sky turning slate-colored in the approaching dawn, Lorelei slowly climbed the steps her her chamber. Sif had been wrong, it had hurt. Quite a lot. But she had also been right—no damage had actually come to her as a direct result of the many, many times that Sif had brought her sword crashing against the shield with what she solemnly promised was less than her full strength.

Instead, it was the hours spent holding the heavy shield aloft, shuffling endlessly through the grass, absorbing the vibrations that shook her body every time the shield rang. There were blisters on her hands and on her heels, and the muscles of her shoulders, forearms, and upper thighs were complaining loudly at their ill-treatment.

In spite of all this, Lorelei had a grin on her face as she reached her door. It had been thrilling and strangely intimate to stand opposite Sif in her training, and to see and feel the results of the young warrior's tremendous efforts, the sounds of which she had been following for weeks at a distance. To Lorelei, Sif had always seemed guarded and aloof, holding her true self private and projecting an unknowable face of strength and serenity. But her guard fell away when she began to wield her sword, and all of her passion, hunger and delight became clearly visible. Lorelei felt that Sif, intentionally or otherwise, had invited her to share much more than just her training, and the thought made her joyful in spite of the pain.

Full of happy memories, Lorelei was about to sink gratefully into her bed to sleep away the rest of the morning. But a note was waiting for her on her pillow, and she quickly unfolded it and read its brief contents.

 _Has my Lorelei become stealthy at last? Where has my little heart run off to?_ _If she can be found before tomorrow midnight, I will whisper a secret in her ear._

Loki. Fond and mysterious as always. But also not one to let it go unremarked that he had made note of her unexpected absence.

Loki's invitations to adventure had always filled her with excitement, but at the moment she was too weary to feel the usual thrill. No, it was more than that. Her life had become fuller in the last weeks, and the thought of a midnight escapade with her mischievous childhood companion no longer seemed a welcome respite from the usual ebb and flow of life in Asgard. In truth, she had scarcely noticed how little she had seen of Loki in recent days. She had not sought him out, her nights too full of attempted magic and her days too full of lethargy. Nor had he sought her company, which in past days would have left her lonely and full of questions; instead, when she had thought about it at all it had merely seemed convenient that he, too, should be busy with his own affairs.  

And yet, reading his note again, she realized how much she missed him. Not the thought of an adventure but the thought of seeing him was enough to ensure that she would meet him at midnight tomorrow. But, she realized, with a sudden rush of guilt and regret, joining Loki would mean abandoning Sif, who was now (and the thought made her swell with pride) depending on her.

But it was for one night only. Surely Sif would understand. Even so, Lorelei blanched at the thought of Sif waiting alone among the tumuli for the training partner who never came. She was eager not to break faith with the trust that Sif had placed in her by deserting her without warning. With every part of her body protesting, Lorelei rose from her bed once more and went in search of Sif to forewarn her of her absence.


	7. Amicus

Lorelei wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she quickly peeled off her soiled clothing, drew on a dressing gown and stumbled down the stairs from her room. She felt she must find Sif right away or risk having to hunt for her up and down the city. If Sif felt half as tired as she did, then she was almost certain to be in her chambers now. The thought of leaving a note if Sif was absent she dismissed as a last resort. After all, Sif might not see it. Or someone else might. But most of all, Lorelei wanted to meet Sif face to face and be certain that she was not upset and that they would meet together as planned in two nights and for many nights to come. 

Some minutes later, Lorelei's determined footsteps slowed. Although she had set off confidently toward the southeast rooms of the great palace of Asgard, she was not entirely sure exactly where Sif slept. She knew that she was heading in more or less the correct direction, but as to which of the many doors belonged to her nightly comrade, she could only make a guess. However, as she finally approached the long hallway that she hoped was the right one, the need for guesswork was eliminated by the sound of angry and excited voices, Sif's among them. Lorelei crept to the edge of the open door, and through it she could hear the bitter argument clearly.

"What would you have us think?" Sif's father bellowed. "By your absence during the night we fear all manner of depravity, and by your silence on the matter our fears cannot but be confirmed!"

"Please, my daughter," said her mother in a more conciliatory tone. "Your willfulness is as grave a matter as your truancy. If you will not explain your whereabouts then you will leave us no choice but to confine you—"

"—Confine me!" Sif exclaimed furiously.

"—to confine you under supervision until such time as we believe that we can trust you once again."

"I broke no trust! I do all you ask of me and more, but since when has my time not been my own? Why must I account for myself when I have in no way failed in my obligations to you?"

"Why will you not?"

"Because I shouldn't have to! I have never given you a reason not to trust me, so why are you now treating me as a delinquent?"

"If you wish us to trust you, it is a simple matter of speaking the truth to us now," her mother insisted.

"And what is the point of having your trust if you discard it at the first opportunity?"

"Do not attempt to deflect the blame in this situation, young lady," said her father, with a menace in his tone."Does your understanding of filial obligations include employing slyness and duplicitousness to defend your own whims? You may feel that we have been overly strict in our expectations of you, but I promise you that we can and will do far more to ensure that you fulfill your rightful place here in Asgard. You will tell us where you were, and you will do so immediately."

"I will not," Sif replied valiantly.

On the other side of the door, Lorelei listened and seethed with indignation and sympathy on Sif's behalf. She knew that Sif feared losing her freedom if she confessed the reason for her absence, but it seemed she would lose it anyway by her refusal. If only she would make up some lie! Twisting her hands angrily in the pockets of her dressing gown, Lorelei's fingers suddenly brushed against a small comb, carelessly dropped there some days before and then forgotten. Her fingers closed around it with the glimmer of an idea. 

Sif's father had turned scarlet from outrage, and he was moments from a violent eruption when Lorelei suddenly swept cheerfully into the chamber. "Sif, you left this in my room last night," she said brightly, revealing the comb. Her eyes met Sif's parents' astonished gaze, and she pulled up short in feigned surprise. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I've interrupted something! I'll simply return this and leave at once. It's just that if anyone else's possessions remain unclaimed in my room for more than an hour or so they get absorbed into the chaos. I'm terribly untidy, I'm afraid. So I thought I'd just bring this along straight away." She smiled apologetically and held the comb out for Sif, who stared at her dumbly. 

"She left it...last night?" Sif's father asked in confusion, a few of the purplish-red patches receding from his brow.

"That's right," Lorelei said, beaming at him. She looked from him to Sif's mother and back and, seeing the displeasure still written in their faces, her own expression clouded over. "Oh dear, Sif isn't in trouble, is she? Why, if you found her gone from her room at night you must have been terribly worried! I'm afraid it's all my fault. She probably hasn't even told you how silly I've been because she's so wonderfully sweet, but you simply mustn't be angry with her. Truly, it's my fault entirely, she would never have been absent if it weren't for me and I know she wouldn't have worried you for the world. Please say you'll forgive her!" She gazed up at the two furious adults with eyes wide and lip aquiver. 

Seeing Lorelei's evident distress, Sif's father made reassuring noises in his throat and started to say that it was quite alright, but before he could finish, Sif's mother interrupted with narrowed eyes.

"Are you saying that Sif was with you last night in your room?"

"Oh, yes! But I would never have begged her to if I knew it would get her into trouble. I simply wasn't thinking!"

"Doing what?" Sif's mother demanded, ignoring Lorelei's apologetic exclamations. 

"Doing?" Lorelei stared innocently at the older woman, her nervous embarrassment becoming more genuine by the second. She wished she had taken the time to invent a more complete story before charging into the room, and now she wracked her brain.

"Yes, doing. How very difficult that simple question seems to be tonight. What were you doing?"

"My dear, there is no need to interrogate the poor girl," Sif's father protested.

"You were willing enough to interrogate our daughter!" her mother rejoined. "If her activities concern Sif then I believe we have every right to insist on some form of explanation, and I do insist."

"Shall I tell them?" said Sif suddenly. She met the other girl's eye intently, reaching to take the comb that Lorelei was still holding out as though it might suddenly speak up and confirm their alibi. Lorelei looked back with gratitude and relief.

"Of course, you must tell them. If it will help then yes, absolutely. I don't really mind, really I don't. This is what comes of being so foolish, and I'm sure it's all for the best. Yes, of course you may tell them," she finished lamely, crossing her fingers that Sif had something plausible up her sleeve.

"Lorelei wanted my help carving a rune. For a spell," Sif explained apologetically. 

Lorelei breathed an inward sigh of relief. _Of course!_  She thought. _Embarrassing but harmless_. Runes—symbols full of philosophical and magical meaning—could trap or unleash tremendous power in the hands of accomplished sorcerers and scholars. But they had also become an innocent fad among young people and dilettantes, who liked to etch simplistic and ineffective incantations on small pieces of bone in the hopes of conjuring some kind of good luck or personal gain. With the right symbols you might find a secret treasure, or dream about your future spouse. That sort of thing. Truthfully, it was all pretty silly, an adolescent game, and Lorelei was able to summon genuine embarrassment at the thought of spending her nights engaged in something so foolish. But it just might work. Holding Sif's gaze, she hastily agreed. "Yes, you see, Sif has read much more about runic symbols than I have and...and—"

"—And she needed an object! An object to carve. From someone else. That I had."

"Yes! Someone Sif knows much better than I do."

"She thought it would make the charm more powerful. Because it was, er—"

"—A love spell," Lorelei finished impulsively. "You see, I'm in love..." She saw Sif bite her lip to hold back a laugh, and she flushed. "I'm in love with...with—" She stared helplessly at Sif, her mind drawing a blank.

"—Fandral," Sif supplied.

 _Fandral? Pompous ass!_ Lorelei though indignantly. "Yes, with Fandral," she confirmed in quavering tones. "He hardly knows that I exist, and I begged Sif to help me." She raised wide, limpid eyes toward Sif's parents and awaited their response with entirely authentic nervousness. 

The story, thin as it was, had the advantage of making Sif's parents feel uncomfortable. Both of them now looked more embarrassed than angry, as people will when they have forced confidences that caught them off guard. Their family crisis had devolved into a silly melodrama surrounding unrequited adolescent love, and they both appeared eager to retreat with their dignity. "It is extremely foolish of you to play around with that sort of magic," said Sif's mother severely, but the bite had gone out of her words.  

"I know," Lorelei said miserably, her lip trembling. 

"Oh come, it's a bit of harmless fun," said her father indulgently. "Although I would have thought you were getting a bit old for that sort of game, young lady."

"Yes, sir," Lorelei said meekly. "I know it's foolish. I didn't know what else to do. Although," she added, brightening a bit, "Sif has promised to teach me to dance. Perhaps that will help!"

"That's the ticket," he smiled encouragingly. "Leave the cheap magic behind and show off your elegance and grace. You'll have them eating out of your hand, I have no doubt."

"I must ask you to promise that you will not involve our daughter in any more such ill-considered activities," Sif's mother said coldly.

"Yes, ma'am, I promise."

"Very well." For a moment she looked as though she were not quite satisfied. Then, she drew herself up abruptly. "Sif, we shall expect to see you at dinner." She swept her way to the door and exited, followed shortly by Sif's father. 

The two girls stood frozen until the last echo of the retreating footsteps had faded, then Sif fairly leapt to the door and shut it firmly. She spun around and gaped at Lorelei, who stared back at her until the pair of them suddenly collapsed with nervous laughter, covering their mouths to stifle their giggles in fear that Sif's parents might suddenly return. 

"Lorelei, what are you _doing_ here?" Sif gasped when she finally regained her breath. 

"There was something I had to tell you. I thought I'd better come right away before I fell asleep and accidentally slept until night time. What in the realms happened?"

"I hardly know! I got back to my chamber and my parents were already here, as livid as badgers. I didn't have time to think before they were demanding to know where I'd been."

"But your sword and your shield! Didn't they give you away at once?"

"I leave them in a little hollow on the tumuli," said Sif with relief. 

"Oh, well done you!" 

"Yes, but it wouldn't have done a bit of good if you hadn't shown up, spouting extemporaneous nonsense."

"It really was absolute nonsense wasn't it?" said Lorelei with a grin.

"I hadn't a clue what you were talking about when you first began."

"Nor had I! I hoped something would come to me if I just kept talking. Thanks be you were able to think of something that wasn't pure, run-on gibberish."

"I would never have had the chance without your gibberish," Sif confessed. "I was so surprised to find them in my chamber, and then I was just angry. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't appeared."

Lorelei looked self-consciously at her toes. "Do you think it worked?"

"I don't know," Sif said thoughtfully. "I think so. I almost believed you myself. You looked ready to cry!"

"I almost did! I was absolutely terrified." 

"I think you managed to make my mother feel embarrassed, so I don't believe she'll question me again unless she has something pretty solid to go on. And you must have bewitched my father. I've never seen him so tame."

Lorelei giggled. "That would be an excellent trick. I could bewitch everyone's fathers whenever they felt particularly blustering or authoritarian. Or whatever flaws fatherhood seems to bring out, I'm hardly an expert."

For a moment, Sif looked at her with sympathy. Lorelei turned away dismissively, regretting having said something that could be interpreted as fishing for pity. She didn't miss her parents, or any parents really, because she had never know what it was like to have them. When she occasionally felt pangs of longing for a family, it was for the faded memory of Amora before her eyes had turned to ice, nothing more. 

"What was it that you came to tell me?" Sif asked after a pause.

"I can't be at the tumuli tonight," Lorelei said apologetically.  "I'm so sorry. I've promised to meet someone. But I will be there the night after that to help you train, and for as many nights as you need. I give you my word," she added.

"There's no need to apologize," replied Sif, with a hint of her old stiffness. "You are under no obligation to me." But seeing that Lorelei looked slightly crestfallen, she relented and continued more graciously. "Thank you for telling me. I shall be grateful for your help tomorrow. Go with Loki."

Lorelei flushed. "How did you know?"

"Who else could lure you away on a midnight adventure?"

"You're right," Lorelei admitted, with a rueful smile. "I'll see you tomorrow." She turned to go.

"You will be careful, won't you, Lorelei?" Sif asked suddenly.

"Yes, of course."

"It's just, sometimes, I'm not sure Loki knows when to stop."

"I'll be careful," she promised.

"And Lorelei—"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for what you did. You're a good friend."

Lorelei glowed. "You're welcome, Sif."


End file.
